


minutiae

by oryx



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series)
Genre: Age Difference, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 14:03:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1120721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oryx/pseuds/oryx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Alder imparts some wisdom, Cheren is awkward, and an agreement of a sort is reached.</p>
            </blockquote>





	minutiae

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SaraJaye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaraJaye/gifts).



> very important announcement: i just realized that alder is an actualfax foxy grandpa and laughed for like 10 mins  
> if nobody has ever photoshopped that hat on to him i will be v. disappointed
> 
> p.s. happy holidays! (▰˘◡˘▰)

He’s locking up the door to the Science Building when he hears the murmur of excited voices from the vicinity of the front gate. He peers curiously around the side of the building, Stoutland close at his heels, and feels a faint thrill course through him.

 

Alder said he would stop by once things were up and running, but in his usual capricious manner did not specify a date. He’s crouched down, showing one of Cheren’s students a sleight of hand trick with a pokeball while the other student stares admiringly at his Volcarona, clutching a drawing pad and attempting to sketch its wings. Alder glances up and smiles when Cheren approaches, eyes brightening, and Cheren tries his best to ignore the ache in his chest.

 

“Why are you two still here?” Cheren asks, leveling the students with a reproachful look. “Classes were dismissed almost an hour ago. Time to go home, alright? Before your parents start worrying about you.”

 

“I’m not finished sketching the wings, though,” the boy – Nathan – says with a frown.

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Alder says. “I’ll stop by again next week. You can finish up then, yeah?”

 

Nathan nods contemplatively, thanking Alder for his time, and he and his friend wave their goodbyes as they turn around the corner. (Meanwhile the words “stop by again next week” are settling warm and pleasant in the back of Cheren’s mind.) Alder gets to his feet with a groan, stretching out his back.

 

“This place is looking good,” he says. “And the students seem to think pretty highly of you already. Those kids wouldn’t shut up about you when I asked.”

 

“Really?” Cheren swallows hard and averts his eyes, watching Stoutland as he trots up to exchange greetings with Volcarona. His fists clench at his sides, nails digging sharp into his palms. “But… I lost my first gym battle. Did they not mention that?”

 

“Hmm…? No, they didn’t. I don’t think it matters so much to them. Who’d you lose to?”

 

“…A girl a few years younger than myself. Rosa. Mine was her first gym badge.” He laughs weakly. “I know winning isn’t everything. You taught me that. But still, I just…”

 

“Hey,” Alder says, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder. “Nobody likes to lose, Cheren. But just think of it this way: you’ve furthered her dream. She could go on to unseat Iris someday, and then your loss won’t seem so bad. And, well… it’s a bit of a league secret, but I’m pretty sure every gym leader loses their first battle. Or screws something up at the very least.” He grins. “Nobody knows what the hell they’re doing the first time around.”

 

Cheren smiles softly. Bianca had tried to cheer him up as well, the day after his loss, and while he’d appreciated it her words had done little to assuage him. Alder, though…

 

“Hey, what happened to your glasses?” Alder asks, leaning in a bit closer, and Cheren can feel himself flush.

 

“Oh, um… Th-they got scratched during an outdoor class a few days ago,” he stammers. “I’m trying contact lenses until my new pair arrives.”

 

“It’s a good look for you. Very adult.” Alder nods thoughtfully. “Now are you going to give me a grand tour of this place, or did I arrive too late for such things?”

 

“Well I… I’ve already locked the main three buildings, I’m afraid, but I can show you the greenhouse if you’d like?”

 

“Hmm. Yeah, that’d be great,” Alder says, and Cheren starts down the path to the greenhouse, all the while thinking that perhaps he will cancel the order for his new pair of glasses. (It’s the twenty-first century, after all. A gym leader should not be relying on spectacles in this day and age.)

 

.

 

.

 

“Has Benga stopped by the school yet?”

 

Cheren glances up from watering an Oran berry tree. Alder is sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor, surrounded by softly humming Petilils, a Cottonee perched on top of his head. It’s a rather adorable sight, and Cheren has to press a hand to his mouth to keep from laughing aloud.

 

“Benga…? No, why?”

 

“Ah, well. I told him it might be beneficial for him to attend a few classes, but I had a feeling he wouldn’t listen to me.”

 

Cheren frowns. “Benga is a highly skilled trainer. If he weren’t so young and flighty he could easily be a gym leader himself. He has no need to attend classes here.”

 

“…Yeah, I suppose that’s true,” Alder muses. “But you said it yourself – he’s young. He tends to get cocky, like kids that age do. He tends to rely too much on the power of his Pokemon and forget the basics. And he spends so much time wandering around, with just his Pokemon to keep him company. I worry about him, y’know? Arisa would be angry with me, if she knew how much he’s been traveling without any supervision.” He laughs sheepishly.

 

“Arisa? Is that… is that your daughter?”

 

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. She’s a great girl – or woman, I should say, always forget that she’s not a kid anymore. You’d like her. She and her husband live over in Sinnoh, in Floaroma Town. It’s a real quiet place. Not much going on. And Benga gets restless when he doesn’t have activities lined up, so they usually ship him over here for the summer.”

 

Cheren’s throat feels strangely tight. He’s moved on to a Pecha berry tree, now, and he realizes with a start that he’s giving it too much water, nearly flooding the poor thing in its pot.

 

“Your wife,” he says slowly. “Are you divorced?”

 

He glances over his shoulder to see Alder raising an eyebrow, lips curved into an amused smile. “What, is this the day for me to tell you my entire life story?” he laughs. “But yes, we are divorced. For… fourteen years now, I believe? Damn, how time flies.”

 

“S-sorry,” Cheren says. Shame burns the back of his neck. “It was rude of me to ask that.”

 

“Nah, no worries.” Alder waves a hand dismissively. “It’s not a painful memory or anything of the sort. It was an amiable split. We just got married too young, y’know? Didn’t think things through. Let me give you some advice, Cheren: wait until you’re at least thirty to settle down. Trust me on that one.”

 

“…Right,” Cheren murmurs. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

He places the watering can back on its shelf and takes a deep breath, walking over and kneeling down next to Alder. A few of the Petilil immediately flock to him, nudging his arm, and he reaches out to pet them absentmindedly.

 

“So,” he says. His voice trembles a little. “You’ve… never considered getting married again? Have you dated at all, these past fourteen years?”

 

Alder raises both of his eyebrows this time. “Cheren, are you trying to set me up with someone? Your mother, perhaps?”

 

“…Wh-what!?” Cheren splutters. “That’s – that’s ludicrous! My mother and father are quite happily married, Alder! Which you should know, since you’ve met them twice.”

 

“Relax, it was a joke,” Alder sighs, a kind of fond exasperation in his eyes. “Don’t worry – your mother is safe from my advances. But if you are trying to set me up, I’m curious as to who you might choose. Lenora is also off the table, just so you know. She once punched me just for flirting with her, and that was _before_ she got married.”

 

“Um…” Cheren licks his lips nervously. “Drayden, then?”

 

Alder stares at him for a time. And then he begins to laugh. (The way his eyes crease endearingly around the edges causes something to flutter in the pit of Cheren’s stomach.) “Well I’ll give you points for originality. No one’s ever tried to set me up with a man before. But I’m afraid I’ve been friends with Drayden for so many years that dating him seems a bit… incestuous? And don’t suggest Clay, either. He’s got his heart set on his receptionist Rhonda. They’ve been dancing around each other for a decade now. If anyone needs setting up it’s those two.”

 

He pushes himself to his feet, then, removing the Cottonee from his head and placing it down gently.

 

“Ahh, I should let you lock up,” he says. “It’s getting late and you probably want to get home. I’ll come by earlier in the afternoon next week so you can show me the whole place, yeah?”

 

He heads for the door but Cheren reaches out and grabs him by the sleeve, curling his fingers into the fabric.

 

“You… you don’t have to leave just yet,” he says. His face feels hot. “We could go to the lookout. I mean… if you’d like. They fixed up the area during the Aspertia Restoration Project so it’s a lot nicer now.”

 

Alder pauses mid-step. His eyes soften as he looks down at him.

 

“Sure thing,” he says. “Lead the way.”

 

.

 

.

 

“What about Marshal?”

 

Alder blinks at him. They’re the only ones at the lookout, much to Cheren’s relief. It’s quiet this far away from town, the weather warm without being stifling, and the lake is laid out in front of them with stars reflected on its surface.

 

“What _about_ Marshal?”

 

“To date, I mean.”

 

Alder drags a hand across his face tiredly. “We’re still doing this? Geezus. First of all, Marshal is far too serious and I’m far too…” He makes a nebulous gesture and trails off with a sigh. “I like the man well enough as a friend, but anything beyond that and we’d drive each other up the goddamn wall. And second of all, don’t you think he’s a tad young for me?”

 

“Not really,” Cheren says, much too quickly. “It’s not a terribly significant age difference between the two of you – ”

 

“Cheren, in what universe is twenty-some years not a significant age gap?”

 

“Grimsley, then.”

 

“Grimsley??” Alder gapes at him. “You do realize Grimsley is even younger than Marshal, yes? And he’s rather… _in-demand_ romantically, to put it lightly. You really think a man like that would have any desire to date a person almost twice his age?”

 

“You never know,” Cheren says. His words are overloud and desperate-sounding. “You never know. Grimsley is a very open-minded person, I think. He wouldn’t write someone off just because of age, or gender, or – ”

 

He breaks off, the tremble in his voice causing him to falter.

 

“…Cheren? Are you alright? You’re acting very strange.” Alder frowns, lifting a hand to Cheren’s forehead. His palm is rough and dry and warm and the touch makes Cheren shiver. “You don’t feel hot… But I run pretty hot myself, so who knows. Do you feel sick at all?”

 

“No,” Cheren says. “No, I…”

 

He reaches up without thinking and takes hold of Alder’s collar, pulling him down into an awkward, off-center kiss, almost missing his lips entirely. He smells like cinnamon and aftershave and dusty earth, Cheren thinks, and squeezes his eyes shut tight, as if he could tune everything else out and stay in this moment forever. Alder stands there seemingly in shock for a moment before putting his hands on Cheren’s shoulders and gently pushing him away. The expression on his face is more bewildered than anything.

 

They stand there for several moments in uncomfortable silence.

 

“Cheren,” he says slowly. “I’m… not entirely sure you know what you’re doing. Have you been overworking yourself lately? Because fatigue can sometimes do odd things to people – ”

 

“I’m not sick, Alder,” Cheren hisses. “Or fatigued, or, or anything like that, alright? I know very well what I’m doing. Please don’t treat me like a child. I am seventeen years old and I know what I want.”

 

“…Do you really?” Alder murmurs. He sounds more stunned than condescending.

 

“Y-yes.” The kiss is beginning to catch up to him now, his face burning with a kind of intensity that he didn’t know was humanly possible. His hands are still gripping Alder’s collar and he can’t seem to let go. “I realize that there is a rather… considerable age difference between the two of us, but I have no qualms with it and I hope – ”

 

Alder’s laugh is hollow and disbelieving. “Cheren,” he says. (Cheren wishes he would stop saying his name. His pulse jumps every time.) “Cheren, I have a _grandchild_ not much younger than you.”

 

“Yes, well.” He clears his throat pointedly. “I have done some calculations, and statistically speaking you are actually very young to have a grandchild Benga’s age. And I am seven years Benga’s senior, which is by no means a paltry amount – ”

 

“Oh,” Alder says, cutting him off once more. “So seven years is ‘by no means a paltry amount,’ and yet kissing someone thirty-some years older than you doesn’t give you the slightest pause?” He laughs again – a startled, incredulous sound – and runs a weary hand through his hair. “I… I really don’t know what to tell you, Cheren. I hate to say that anyone’s feelings aren’t legitimate, but I can’t help but think that you’re confusing respect for something else entirely. There has to be someone your own age that you’re interested in. …What about Bianca? She seems to like you, and you’re already such good friends, it wouldn’t be difficult to take that next step…”

 

“Everyone says that,” Cheren says quietly. He grits his teeth, frustration prickling at his skin. “Everyone says that Bianca and I would make a good couple. But I’ve _tried_ , alright? I’ve tried to think of her in that way and I just _can’t_. I don’t want to date her, Alder. I wish I could because it would be so much simpler, so much easier than, than _this_. But I just can’t, okay? I wish I could fall in love with some average girl the same age as me but no matter how hard I try it doesn’t work and all I can ever think about is – ”

 

He breaks off again, stopping himself before he says something devastatingly embarrassing (though he supposes it’s a little late to be worrying about that). He takes a shuddering breath and glares down at the ground, refusing to meet Alder’s eyes.

 

“Oh geezus,” Alder mutters after a long silence, and reaches out to wrap his arms around Cheren’s shoulders, pulling him into a tight hug. Cheren makes a startled noise as he’s drawn in. His face is pressed against Alder’s chest, his body heat tangible even through the layers of fabric. Cheren’s own heartbeat is pounding loud in his ears, and he lifts his hands hesitantly to return the embrace.

 

“I’ve always felt like such a dirty old man,” Alder says softly. “For finding you so cute.”

 

Cheren takes a sharp breath. His fingers curl tight against Alder's back.

 

“…And _this_ ,” Alder continues, “is by far the most illegal-feeling hug I’ve ever been part of.” He laughs uneasily and pulls away, extricating himself from Cheren’s grasp with some difficulty. They stand there quietly for a moment and then he lifts a hand to touch Cheren’s chin, tilting his face up and meeting his eyes. His expression is tender.

 

“Listen, Cheren,” he says. “Let’s not talk about this again.”

 

“…What?” Cheren’s mouth goes dry. He feels like he’s been slapped. “No, Alder, that’s not, you can’t just – ”

 

Alder raises a hand to silence him. “Let’s not talk about this again… Until you’re eighteen, alright? That’s what, five months away? And even then I’m not making any promises. Far from it.” He grimaces. “God, your parents would kill me. Arisa would kill me. Hilda would come back from her trip just to deck me one. I’m imagining the tabloid headlines now: ‘Creepy ex-Champion perving on innocent, barely-legal gym leader.’” He massages his temples tiredly. “Damn, I’m really getting too old for this stuff.”

 

“So I have a chance?” Cheren demands, staring him down intently.

 

“A… a _chance_? Oh lord. I’m not sure if I’d phrase it like that – ”

 

“Because I won’t give up.” He’s proud of the sheer conviction in his voice. “If there’s any chance at all, then I won’t give up.”

 

Alder’s eyes widen. He sighs and shakes his head, then, turning away, but there is a kind of fond amusement written on his face. “I’m not answering that question, Cheren,” he calls over his shoulder. “Not today, at least. Now come on. I’ll walk you home. Children shouldn’t be walking alone in the city after dark.”

 

“Wh-what!? I have my Pokemon with me, you know,” Cheren calls back. His moment of collected calm has passed as quick as it came, and he once again feels his face turning red. “I don’t need you to babysit me.”

 

But all the same he jogs to catch up with Alder’s retreating figure, watching the slope of those broad shoulders and sharing a small, triumphant smile with himself.

 

Five months, he supposes, is not so long to wait.


End file.
